Falling
by Olive Tree Hugger
Summary: Zutara Week 2013. Day 7: Sparks.
1. Calor

Calor: _Spanish for "heat"_

Zuko didn't hear the footsteps approaching. He sat beside her bedside, focusing on the shallow rise and fall of her chest. They'd long since forgotten the silken sheets bunched around the edge of the bed, the ones she'd kicked off because she was too hot. He pressed a palm over her forehead and withdrew it almost immediately. She burned like the fires that licked at his fingertips. Her body shined with a clear sheen of sweat, her skin so hot and sticky Zuko didn't want to touch her.

He stared at her sickly, frail body even when Iroh's voice sounded.

"Nephew, you must rest. I will care for her," he whispered.

Zuko shook his head, grasping her hand. "No," he responded hotly, "she is my responsibility."

Iroh came up behind his nephew and put a hand over his shoulder, squeezing it. "You need your rest. Please, let me watch over her while you sleep."

The Fire Lord rubbed his eyes, wincing at the tingling sensation he felt when his eyelids closed. "What time is it?" He asked, holding in a yawn.

"The sun is barely starting to rise," Iroh replied, already taking a seat by her bed, "staying up all night like this is no good for your chi. Now go, Lord Zuko."

"I'll be back," Zuko muttered, already trudging out of her suite. He yawned multiple times on his way to bed, his eyes occasionally falling too heavy to keep open. Everything around his was a mass blur of dark red, figures, and shadows. He'd been awake far too long. Two days straight caring for her, rubbing her skin with wet rags to cool her heated skin, and whispering loving things to keep her comforted. Her condition was a strange and fearsome thing that neither Zuko nor the healers had ever encountered.

She'd complained of headaches, muscle pain, and blurry vision all week. Iroh suggested tea. Zuko suggested less complaining. She'd collapsed two days before, shaking and trembling and Zuko thought he was going to lose her. Whatever she'd contracted kept her unconscious for most of her stay in the spare suite. It killed Zuko to see her so weak. She was always so lively, so strong-willed and powerful. Her body was so hot that he could almost see the flames eating away at her flesh as he watched in white robes.

"No," he muttered to himself, shaking away the nightmarish thought. She would live. She would not die. He wouldn't allow it. If he could carry the disease besides her, to lessen her fever and pain, and possibly die in her place, then so be it.

* * *

The air was unnaturally cool that morning. The wind blew in from the South, tumbling harshly through the atmosphere. Zuko hated the way the wind made his robes flap so awkwardly. He hated the way no one seemed to care. _It was just another dead person_, they were probably saying, _and not even one of ours. _

He pondered over having her ashes sent home to her family so they could scatter them in the sea, but he secretly wanted her essence around. Zuko needed her presence. Her warmth, her smile, the things he would never experience again could be summed in a porcelain vase of ash.

The Fire Lord watched the sages set the coffin on ablaze and Zuko's world shattered. Her death was in vain. What had she done to deserve such a painful dead? Her coffin was engulfed by the hungry fire and Zuko could almost hear her pained screams. A sick thought crossed his mind: if she was really still alive in there she'd be cooked to death now.

Ripping away the hauntingly white robe, he stalked through the palace to find a place to mourn. He still hadn't let loose a single tear.

Once he was inside his bedroom, Zuko felt the sobs rack his body till he was on the floor, clenching his jaw tight as the tears fell with abandonment. Agni, why? Why take away the one thing that he loved most in the world? She was an angel, a kind and loving girl who would give anything to help him, even if she were being chased by his malevolent, insane sister. A girl who'd healed him time and time again even if it meant gaining her own scars. They were for him.

He covered his face with his hands as he cried, clawing at his face, wishing for a chance to hold her warm body flush against his. Just one chance to see those fiery eyes light up when he kissed her. He wanted to love her right. His existence meant nothing without the hot-blooded water bender.

Forcing his tears to stop, Zuko glanced upwards at his dresser and slowly inched his way forward. Once he was close enough, he dug through it and fished out the dagger his uncle had given him when he was a child. He read the inscription, one last time, before biting his lips. As he braced for the impact, he thought, _she fought hard enough for the both of us, _before shoving the dagger through his heart.

* * *

Awakening with a start, he sat up panting and trying to gather his surroundings. For a moment he was unsure of the time, what day it was, what year it was, where_ he_ even was. His head was swimming with visions of blood spatter, the heat of a thousand suns, and pain so real that Zuko could still feel it pounding in his heart.

Then he remembered and rushed out of bed, not minding to grab his robe on the way out. He literally sprinted towards her suite, shoving any servant or sage that got in his way. He burst in through the door, panting, hoping to Agni he wasn't too late.

And there she was. She propped up on a pillow, smiling weakly, her big and bright blue eyes shining at him.

"'Tara…" he murmured, so relieved he could sing to the moon.

The water bender grinned back at him, muttering, "Koko."

Zuko hated the nickname but didn't care. He hurried to her bed side, immediately kissing her forehead. He pulled away, awestruck. "Your fever….it's completely gone," he whispered.

"Heat distribution," Iroh stated from the other side of the room. He was carrying a bowl of what looked to be water. Zuko sighed in relief again and clasped his hand around hers. He looked down at her and smiled. "Thank Agni. I was so worried," he murmured.

Katara blinked twice before yawning and replying, "I was the one with the fever. I should have been worried."

Both Iroh and Zuko started to chuckle. The elder explained, "Special herbs—to help with joint pain. It makes one quite…." He looked at the water bender and smirked, "loopy."

The fire bender settled his head against her shoulder and kissed her skin. "I love you, Katara," he said.

The girl dug her fingers into his hair and stroked his head gently. "I love you too, Hotman," she giggled.

Zuko looked up and grinned, despite the awful nickname. Katara continued to giggle uncontrollably, her hand still playing with his head, as Iroh shrugged and stated, "It's better than Koko."


	2. Euphoria

Euphoria

Being in a relationship defined by sex and drinking was typical for Princess Katara. Men threw themselves at her feet, for she was gorgeous and powerful and _royalty_. That was the point Katara never let anyone forget. Being the daughter of Chieftain Hakoda of the Southern Water Kingdom meant being the target of every suitor, every royal in the world. She was constantly hounded by men wishing to marry her, but Katara didn't particularly like the notion of being an icon, a beautiful symbol that had no other title besides "wife of [insert ruler's name here]". She was a princess. She was strong. Katara was a master at water bending and at hand-to-hand combat. Where would those skills go if she was married? Chucked out the window, that's where.

Katara led the man by the hand to her bedroom. The princess wore a sneaky, crafty smile as she strode down the blue and purple halls, ignoring the murmurs she heard from passerby, instead focusing on the pale man following her.

It was delicious, really. Here she was, shopping for bejeweled hair clips because she'd grown rather tired of her regular ivory ones, when the vendor's apprentice skittered out towards her holding a velvet box full of special hair clips made from diamonds and pure sapphire. Katara didn't eye the box first. She lifted her cerulean blue irises only to settle on the man.

He had lovely ivory skin, creamy and clean except for the disturbingly marred tissue on the left side of his face. His entire left eye looked swollen and red, barely open because of the scar that had most likely ruined it. His inky black hair was thick and long, reaching his shoulders. Some of it was draped over his face, creating a shadow that Katara could only call mysterious and inviting. So mysterious and inviting that the princess could barely contain her desire, nearly dragging him all the way to the ice palace and leaving her posse in her wake.

What really excited Katara was his scent. It was euphoric. Most men she slept with were Water Kingdom men, some noble and some sailors. She happened to like the sailors better, for their experience and the scent of adventure and musk and a faint hint of sweat. And when she slept with Earth Kingdom men, they smelled like gardens and mud and rain. And Air Nomads, who were by far the least experienced and probably the sweetest, always smelled like the wind when it came from the east. Sweet, like fruit pies and autumn. But this one, this one smelled like burnt wood, smoke, and strangely enough, tea leaves.

It intrigued the princess to no end. She wanted that scent on her. She would have him over and over until whatever musk he wore would cling to her.

When she approached her door, a very tall and icy structure, she looked back at the man and smiled devilishly. She batted her eyes and he asked, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

The royal felt her knees weaken at his voice, a gravelly sound, like small rocks being rubbed together to create sparks. It was working for her. She could barely stop herself from yanking him inside.

* * *

She watched him pull on his trousers from her place on the furs. Rubbing the luxurious fuzz up and down between her fingers, Katara looked up at him and stated, "I hope we can do this again sometime."

The man, still shirtless, bowed towards Katara and mumbled, "I look forward to it, Princess."

Then he returned to dressing himself, straightening his under shirt before pulling his parka on. Katara observed him, noting how underdressed he seemed for living in the South Pole. Most men she knew wore layers upon layers of heavy fleece and two coats when they went out. And he didn't even seem cold. While they were still under the furs, his skin was so unnaturally hot. She almost scalded herself swallowing his seed.

She quirked an eyebrow up and asked, "Where are you from?"

He visibly tensed at her question, making her stand up and leaving the furs behind. Her skin tingled from the cold but she didn't care. He was silent, so she grabbed his shoulder and jerked him around to stare into her eyes. "_Where_ are you _from_?" She asked coldly.

He looked up at her with sad golden eyes and replied, "Caldera, your Highness."

Almost immediately, she wretched herself away from him and glared. Caldera was the capital of the South Pole's biggest enemy. They'd scent their troops to sea to battle with the icy nation and for ten solid years they warred.

Seeing her reaction, he bowed to her, putting his head against the ice and saying, "My Uncle and I are nothing but humble refugees, Princess. Please don't be angry with me," he looked up with the faintest hint of a smirk and continued, "I rather liked the activities we took part in today."

Katara turned around and picked up a pelt of what she believed to be an arctic wolf. She wrapped her body with it and turned back to him. She smiled genuinely at him and it was such a new action that she instantaneously frowned. She never smiled at the men she laid with. She never really liked any of them. So why was she so drawn to this one?

Sighing, she asked him, "What's your name, humble refugee of Caldera?"

He blinked, responding, "Lee."

Katara tilted her head to the side. She was no fool. But she would allow him his façade, because he was on the run and living in a new environment. She approached him and put a hand on his face, whispering, "Are you sure you want me to call you that when we're together?"

His response was like a purr, "No."

"Then? What do you want me to call you?"

"Zuko."

"Zuko?" Katara felt strange saying it, the name of the enemy she'd heard of many times before but had never met until now. She was tempted to comment on his lack of a crown, regal clothing, and a haircut, but she quieted instantly. She remembered that he was a refugee. For whatever reason, he'd chosen the South Pole as his new home, and the Princess suddenly felt very grateful.

"Alright," she said, stepping back and allowing him to pass, now fully dressed. He started to lean against the door, when Katara called, "Will I always find you in the market?"

Zuko looked back at her and muttered, "No. My Uncle and I have an apartment near the pier. It's the only one with singed walls. You'll know it when you see it."

Katara felt a rush of hope. That was an invitation. As she watched him pass through the door, she waved and fell back against the furs, nearly giggling. For the first time, she'd made someone think of her as a princess, not a sexual object. Most men she slept with didn't bat an eyelash at her after they'd finished, they just got dressed and went on their merry way. What was it about the refugee that made her feel so…elated? The princess nuzzled her pillow and sighed. His scent was still on it. Her eyelids going heavy, she silently prayed that her dreams would bring her the same euphoria that his touch did.

* * *

**YAY ZUTARA WEEK! I've been waiting forever for this mother lover to arrive. Finally! And so, I'm goin to explain real quick what these last two prompts were for. So, I actually suggested the word "calor" because I had previouly studied it in an anatomy book. Weird right? Anyways, I guess Pugletz and GreenifyME were like, 'hm, good enough' and put it. Most people think of spicy food or sexytiems when they think of calor, but I decided to go all angsty and write about a fever potentially killing Katara. Don't hate.**

** And Euphoria was originally going to be about Prince Zuko in an AU world with a concubine named Katara, but it was way too like "I Was Not Magnificent", so I flipped it. I might do a sequel for it. Dunno, but it was fun to write! Review!**


	3. Voices

Voices

She woke up to the sound of crying. An infant's wail, to be precise. Katara blinked a couple of times, gathering her surroundings as she drifted out of sleep. She was reminded of the numbed pain in her nether regions, a side effect of giving birth, as any new mother could expect. She also remembered something her Gran-Gran had told her when she became pregnant.

As she drowsily lifted her head from her pillow, she muttered to herself, "And so it begins."

She was aware that it was still dark outside, judging from the moonlight bathing her bed spread. She turned over, placing a hand on what was supposed to be her husband, but gasped when she found that he was not there.

Suddenly panic-stricken, Katara hopped out of bed, though her lower abdomen begged for mercy. As she hurried out of their bedroom, the worst thoughts muddled her brain. Lately, her husband had been suffering from night terrors. He would wake up screaming, thrashing, and sometimes shooting fire balls into the air. Katara didn't know exactly what caused those nightmares, but she'd awoken to a burning pillowcase more than once. He would cry things out in the darkness, the voices haunting Katara more than annoying her. Sometimes he screamed about Ozai, demanding an explanation for his scar. Sometimes, Azula was in his mind and he would shout at her to 'stop lying'. Other times, he cried out her name, before twitching and sobbing hoarsely. Katara would lean over him and shake him awake, stroking his face and shoulders soothingly, kissing him and wiping away his tears.

But with the birth of their first child, a tiny little girl, the water bender was more than worried, she was terrified. If Zuko started sleep walking while he experienced his nightmares, he could accidently kill their child.

Katara literally sprinted towards the nursery, the sound of her cries growing louder with every step she took. She burst through the door, ready to blood bend Zuko if she had to. But what she saw surprised her. The nursery was cozy and snug, painted in red and adorned with satin drapes and thick carpeting. Their daughter's crib, a tall and lovely structure of wood, didn't exert the sound she was looking for. Instead, Katara directed her attention to the old rocking chair sitting beside a bookcase in the corner of the room. Zuko, in his night shirt and shorts, was settled in the chair with a bundle of pink snuggled in his arms. He was gently rocking to and fro, humming ever so softly to their daughter. She wasn't crying, but she whimpered a bit the way infants did when tired.

Overcome by immense relief, Katara leaned against the doorway. She watched Zuko lull her to sleep, before glancing upwards and grinned at his wife.

"You're OK," was the only thing she could say.

He looked down at the little thing nestled in his arms, commenting, "The voices in my head stopped when she was born. I guess I was just secretly terrified."

The baby's mother carefully made her way towards them, wincing as her lower regions whined in discomfort. She took her daughter from his arms and carried her to her crib. Once she was tucked in and kissed, she turned to her husband and wrapped her arms around him. "I trust you," she whispered.

He made a sound that sounded like a raspy chortle, muttering, "You're lucky I was awake. You didn't have to change her diaper."

The mother pulled back and kissed his cheek, replying, "Thank you."

"I think she has the ability to calm my nerves," he said, looking at the crib thoughtfully. "I've never felt so happy in the middle of the night."

Katara clasped his hand in hers, "Does this mean you don't want to go back to sleep?"

Zuko was out of the room before she could even blink.


	4. Gravity

Gravity

_"I laugh at gravity all the time."_

The air bender's words had echoed in her mind at that moment. Was that how falling in love felt?

She never loved anyone in particular, besides her family and Aang, and even that was a sisterly affection. As a young girl in the South Pole, being squished between older and married women in front a fire, she'd picked up interesting details about the physical act of love. It left her wondering so many things like how could anyone tell his lover that he loves them while his face was buried between their legs? She figured someday, one day, her future husband would show her how, because she was confused.

What could falling in love mean? While her mother was still alive, she'd asked her how it felt like to love someone. She was given this answer: _"It's like the world has stopped. Everything will glow and sparkle like the stars in space. You'll be walking on air all the time."_

Somewhere amongst the sparkling greens and yellows of the crystals, the splashing of the waterfalls ringing in her ears, the look of the lost, sad boy standing in front of her, Katara fell in love with the enemy.

It wasn't on purpose. She hadn't expected another person to be thrown in the crystal prison like her. When she saw the black hair and the scar, she knew. He had changed. His hair used to be tied up in a ridiculous ponytail, but now it hung over his face. He looked thinner, but also not as polished as he had been before. Katara didn't realize it, but she found him somewhat attractive, in a weird, gritty way.

But her previous emotions had been bubbling, stewing with her in those catacombs. Katara started to shout without thinking.

_"You're a _terrible_ person you know that?!"_

His back was turned to her. He was slouching. He never answered a single one of her jabs and it only made her angrier. She insulted him, she shouted, and nearly water bent him into oblivion. Her vision was clouded with rage and hurt and betrayal.

When she cried, that's when he spoke.

"I'm sorry."

What was he apologizing for? He hadn't killed her mother. He hadn't destroyed the South Pole. In retrospect, the Fire Prince didn't do anything to Katara that meant a shattered childhood. So why was she really mad at him?

When she touched his face, she knew. The world turned bright, and nothing but Zuko mattered. Her heart pounded in her chest, her eyes glazed over, and leaned in to kiss him.

He didn't shy away from the kiss. Their lips melted together, like fire and ice. Katara cupped his face in her hands, and Zuko slowly lifted his arms and wrapped them around her. He pressed her close to him, tilting his head to the side to enter her mouth. Their tongues touched, as did their hands and chests and noses. Katara noted that he tasted like tea. She had no idea that he was tea kind of guy.

A graze of his teeth, a low and guttural moan, and a whimper from her, and there she noticed how close she wanted to be with him. She laced her fingers together behind his neck and kissed, kissed, _kissed_ him. Katara felt weightless in his arms. It was like being electrocuted and falling into heaven at the same time. She was floating endlessly in a sea of fire. It was anti-gravity. She felt his hands gently push her waist and she got the she wanted more, she let him pull away. He looked down at her, his hair was mussed up and his golden eyes were wild.

"What was that for?" Zuko asked, breathless.

Katara opened her mouth, speaking without thinking, "I wanted to laugh at gravity too."


	5. Bound

Bound

He would've laughed if they weren't after him. He knew they were watching, waiting for him to strike so they could capture him, bring him forth to the Fire Lord and have him sentenced. But they would never be able to do that. Why? Well, firstly, he was too fast and too stealthy to ever be caught. Secondly, even if they did manage to outsmart him, there would be no Fire Lord to bring him to. Because they would be arresting their ruler. Zuko found it oddly humorous, if not ironic.

The fire bender crouched on top of the farm house's rooftop, carefully watching. It was the Fire Nation's constabularies who were supposed to protect the country, but with the heightened rate of kidnappings lately, he decided to see for himself. He, after all, was the Fire Lord. It was his responsibility to take care of his fellow countrymen.

He lifted his mask for a second to take in a deep whiff of the cool winter air before pushing it back down. He heard footsteps, and he crouched lower so only the horns on his mask were showing. He watched the tall, stretched shadows of two men walking by, speaking in low voices. He listened to their conversation, but picked up nothing that would set off the alarms. As the two walked away, Zuko relaxed his muscles slowly. He had been doing this way too often it seemed. He would sneak out every night while Katara was sleeping, because he knew he'd get an earful about proper sleeping habits if she knew. But in reality, he was doing his for her. She became his Fire Lady at the height of the nation's crime rate, and he was terrified that something could happen to her.

He knew Katara was a powerful bender, but it didn't mean she was always safe.

After another few minutes of watching the street, Zuko grew bored. Obviously nothing was going on in this neighborhood. He cautiously positioned himself on the very point of the roof and started downwards, making sure his footfalls were like light rain as to not wake up the inhabitants. He landed on his feet, before taking off in a sprint towards the next neighborhood. This particular neighborhood, known as "the Clink" because every night consisted of a drinking party between inhabitants, was home to severe crimes in the past week. Zuko had trouble keeping tabs on the Clink. Just when he thought he was going to catch his prey, a shadow of red swept them away.

She wasn't exactly a criminal, or a ne'er-do-well, because she was doing exactly what Zuko did. But her presence posed a series of questions. Who was she and why was she there? And why did she always glance at him before fleeing the scene?

Not surprisingly, when he arrived in the neighborhood, there was a group of young men drinking in nasally and off-key voices. They were teetering on their feet, throwing bottles at the ground and at people's houses. They were loud, rambunctious, but otherwise, not doing anything Zuko could really call a crime. Maybe he would knock them out just to shut them up, but besides that, the fire bender was thinking of hitting the hay. He held in a yawn as he edged closer to the men, seeing the dreamy, glazed over expression the six of them shared. Zuko was still hiding behind a barrel when he saw their expressions change.

The six drunken men all gasped, making Zuko scurry into the open, hoping to catch a glimpse of what they saw. Of course, he already knew. Through the little eye holes in his mask, he caught the moonlight glinting on her skin. She was painted in red, marked over her arms and throat and hands. Her face was hidden by a sheer cloth held by a straw hat. Her red dress flowed down her body like a blood waterfall, and even then cascaded around her arms and downwards. The chilly wind breathed upon her, making her dark hair wind upwards and twist behind her.

She was the Painted Lady.

Zuko had heard of her, but he knew that the real spirit only stuck close to her village. This woman was an imposter, but he wasn't one to reveal true identities. After all, the Blue Spirit wasn't a real entity either.

When he looked at her, the mysterious woman looked back at him, and then slowly approached the drunk hooligans. Zuko, very gradually, raised his hands up towards his shoulders. His dual dao swords were so close. As he reached for them, the Painted Lady rushed towards the men like a surging wave and disabled them with ease. It happened so fast Zuko had no time to wield his swords or blink. All he knew was that once she had them bound, she leapt onto a barrel, then onto someone's roof. He looked up at her, and she looked down at him. He could swear he saw the familiar azure in her eyes. Angry blue eyes glaring at him from across the battlefield, lovely, kind cerulean irises inches away from him in a crystal prison, and a watery, pained sapphire stare in the forest. He knew those eyes.

All he had to do was walk over to the incapacitated drunks and feel their bindings. He smirked underneath his mask. Just as he expected.

Ice.


	6. Soothe

Soothe

The morning after was always a pleasant one for Zuko. He often awoke with ease, feeling relaxed and ready for the day. He never recalled terrible nightmares, developed headaches moments after waking up, or yawned continuously throughout the day. The morning after meant excitement in what was coming, even if it was a series of agonizingly boring meetings with his council. Whistling, striding upright and chin up through the halls of the palace; that is what the Fire Lord was like on the morning after.

For her, the morning after brought a hollow soreness to the lower half of her body, a frantic rush to the kitchen for her special contraceptive herbs, and a strained throat. Nonetheless, she loved the warm memories that flooded her brain when she sat beside him for breakfast, and she loved the way he looked at her when she walked in: all adoration and wonder, like he'd seen her for the first time.

This morning was no different. Katara had woken up just as Zuko left their bedroom. The first thing that came to her mind was the crusty feeling between her legs. Immediately, she remembered being on her back with Zuko towering over her. She recalled his hands in her hair, twisting and tugging it as he gasped. She took in a deep breath which was interrupted by a painful creak in her throat. Ah yes. The screaming she'd done last night. She mentally kicked herself for not being quiet. But often she tried to keep herself quiet and it was fruitless. She'd rather voice how pleasurable Zuko's touch was than rather lay like a sack of potatoes and not make a sound.

Carefully, _slowly_ raising her body from the sheets, she winced as her lower back, vulva and thighs whined in sore discomfort. Maybe she would tell Zuko not to hook her legs over his shoulders next time?

* * *

That night, it was extremely hot, sweltering even. His hair frizzing, his robes clinging to him, Zuko's inner being stirred endlessly, and his muscles were tense and sore from extensive training, and he also had a massive migraine from the never ending babbling his advisors did. All he wanted to do now was lay in bed with his wife and make the stress _go away._

Katara was good at that. She had the hands of a healer, and a heart of gold. Whenever he was tired, really tired, she'd immediately summon her glowing blue water and set it upon his skin. His body would feel like an uncoiling rope, the nasty feeling of knots just smoothing out completely. He never asked her to do it. She was just so good-natured and loving.

That kind of trait was a turn-on for Zuko.

Thinking about her sweet smile and kind blue eyes made the blood rush to his loins and in the middle of his walking—scratch that, trudging, he leaned against the wall and blinked as an erection formed under his clothing. He groaned. Hadn't puberty allowed him to actually control when he was sexually excited? Swearing, he half trudged and half waddled into their bedroom.

It was nearly midnight. The darkness flooded their bedroom so vastly he couldn't even make out where the bed was. Normally, Katara would have lit a few candles for him. He heard sniffles. Was that Katara? Alarmed, Zuko summoned a small but bright flame and held it out in his hand. He saw shadows. _Probably the bed,_ he thought.

Then he cautiously took a few steps forward, the dim light brought by the flame coloring everything a dark orange shade. The sheets on the bed were covering something round. The sniffles turned into whimpers, and the sheets were being pulled upwards. Snuffing out the flame, Zuko rushed to the bedside and muttered, "Katara?"

A sad grunt was her response.

He pulled at the sheets and reached out to touch. His flesh came in contact with hers, but the wetness left him stupefied.

"Are you…are you crying?" He asked.

A hiccup, and then, "Yes."

He brushed at her tears and leaned down very slowly till their foreheads touched. "Why?"

He felt her shake her head. "What?" He asked. She sniffled and replied softly, "I'm in pain."

Zuko pulled away in shock for a second. Then he turned angry. "Who hurt you?"

Katara pulled the sheets away and wiped at her teats. "Last night," she almost laughed, "Can we stop doing it every night? Or slow down? I can't even sit properly anymore."

The Fire Lord sat back as the realization slowly seeped in. He couldn't wrap his head around it—he caused Katara pain? Enough pain to make her cry….Was he so insatiable?

Still stunned, he muttered, "I'm so sorry."

Katara's hand was on his face and she kissed the tip of his nose. "It's not so bad," she uttered. But then she grunted again and sat back on her heels. "I'm just sore. It'll get better."

Zuko's hands tingled with warmth and he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Can I see you…down there?"

Taken aback by the question, the water bender raised her eyebrows. "I can't have sex, Zuko, it hurts," she answered, almost angrily.

"I know," he answered quickly, "I think I can soothe the pain, though."

"H…" she started to ask, but then Zuko put his hands on her bare shoulders, and she shut her eyes at the sensation of intense warmth. It felt…good. Even in the sticky summer heat.

She smiled up at him, though she couldn't see him, and replied, "Okay."

She could tell Zuko wanted to do this, because he quickly started to reach for her hips, sliding her clothes right off of her. He clumsily undid her bindings, eventually allowing her to untie the difficult knots, before her slid them off. He leaned over her, timidly reaching down to cup her in a preheated palm. Once he came in contact with the sensitive skin, Katara tensed and bucked her hips forth.

Zuko raised an eyebrow and snorted. The water bender hotly replied, "Force of habit."

He continued to gently caress the folds, making sure to apply a comforting heat to soothe the pain. Then, without warning, he slowly entered her with two fingers. When the woman gasped, Zuko kissed her and muttered, "I can make it go away, just trust me."

Giving into the sensation, betrayed and somewhat amused, Katara whispered, "Of course I do."

* * *

**There's your sixt chapter. And yay I finally reached 1,000+ words. Don't you hate when you're writing and it just gets all lazy and it turns out to be less words than you expected? Ugh. Hate it all so much. But other than that...yay, Zutara gets steamy.**

**And who the eff isn't ready for LoK 2? I am! It's coming out in Sept. which is my birth month. Mike and Bryan have give me the best birthday gift ever.../sobs/**


	7. Sparks

Sparks

Golden eyes searched the bricks and bars of confinement for an escape. Black hair grew oily, long, and unhealthy. The white fabric keeping her locked away from the world drove Azula even deeper into rock bottom, if that was even possible. It was virtually impossible to leave the mental hospital without an attendant catching her and wheeling her back to her room. And to think, none of this would have happened had she just killed Zuko in that Agni Kai. Apparently, a body full of lightning just wasn't enough. And that Water Tribe mouse of his didn't help at all. She would have let the peasant live, honest.

It struck her as both revolting and intriguing, the fact that her measly brother and the peasant could befriend each other so quickly and work together to usurp her. Azula remembered hearing what that peasant, Katara was her name, cried to him when Zuko attacked her under the city of Ba Sing Se. Katara thought little Zuko was her friend and she trusted him. But Azula knew better. Her brother was untrustworthy. In her eyes, her father's eyes, in her country's eyes. The Fire Prince abruptly fled home and joined the Avatar-and to Azula's surprise, spent half of his time trying to please Katara and saving her from sure doom. And for some reason, the Water peasant reciprocated the gestures.

Azula was a little surprised they never kissed. They had that romantic, nauseating prince and princess complex stinking up the air. Katara was technically a princess in her own right, the Chief's daughter, but Azula would never admit that. She was the princess in that situation, if she knew what was going on at all. All she knew for sure was that after she attacked them in the Western Air Temple, something had changed. Katara and Zuko looked out for each other, as if their friendship was real. Azula figured Katara was an idiot for taking Zuko in after the stunt he pulled in Ba Sing Se.

But nothing prepared her for the sight she witnessed when they confronted her, the day of Sozin's Comet's arrival, the day she was to be crowned ruler of the Fire Nation. There they were, hopping off of the Avatar's damned crime against nature-what was it called? A flying bison, yes. They landed their strange pet in her father's courtyard and demanded to fight her. Azula obliged-she'd show them how a true master worked.

His one weakness was Katara. He risked his life so long as the water bender could not fight alongside him. Well, she could fix that. When her chi began to light and crackle at her finger tips, her eyes locked on her target. Zuko followed her gaze-he was smarter than she remembered-and screamed as the blue lightning whipped forth from her fingertips. Azula didn't expect him to hurl himself between the lightning and the girl.

As her brother's body absorbed the shock, Azula glanced at Katara. The peasant was froze, terrified, her blue eyes wide and full of horror. She screamed, "Zuko!"

Azula smirked, knowing she'd struck a chord far louder than she'd previously thought. She wacthed with sick pleasure as the sparks rolled off of Zuko's limbs. He was dead, he had to be. And Katara would follow. The soon-to-be Fire Lord chased after the water bender, flicking away flimsy water whips and surging forth on a blazing trail of blue fire.

Funny, now that she thought of it. Her bending abilities also very much in tune with their respective elements. Zuko was a fire bender and Katara bent blue water. She looked at her fingertips. How strange. A few sparks heated her fingernails, and she giggled maniacally. She would break out of this hell hole, and when she did, she'd show the Fire Lord and his new bride exactly what she'd discovered.


End file.
